


Catch Me When I Fall

by Fukurujoshi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Oh Sehun-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 21:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12615428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fukurujoshi/pseuds/Fukurujoshi
Summary: In which Sehun shatters, but Chanyeol is there to put him back together again.





	Catch Me When I Fall

It’s past midnight.

The studio is bright, music loud enough to make the floorboards vibrate, and when Sehun looks in the mirror he sees a stranger.

The look in his eyes is painfully familiar, a contradicting mix of numb exhaustion and raw hurt. It’s everywhere. In the ache of his muscles, the throb in his temple, the bruises on his arms and legs from too many clumsy falls.

It doesn’t do him any good to practice this late, this long without a break, but Sehun can’t help it. It’s the only thing that makes his mind shut up.

A twinge in his ankle has Sehun cutting off with a gasp, crouching heavily to take the weight off it. Their dance instructor is going to be so pissed if he can’t move tomorrow, as will everyone else. They’re coming up to a comeback, and the last thing any of them need is a member out of action.

A nagging voice in the back of his head points out that Sehun’s role is too small to be worth much of anything anyway, but it’s a brief spark that fades into the rest of the deep, suffocating sea of self-doubt.

Rationally, Sehun knows he’s a necessary part of the group. He’s reasoned with himself over and over, in the delusional stage of sleep-deprivation, in the irrational jealousy accompanying Sehun witnessing any type of hug between members that doesn’t include him, and he hates it because his brain _doesn’t listen_.

It blocks out every logical thing Sehun tries to throw at it, and he ends up here. Sitting on the floor of the studio in the darkest hours of the morning, exhausted and injured and numb, wanting nothing more than to be told everything will be okay. To be reassured and taken care of and protected.

It won’t happen. He knows that already, knows no one is awake at this time, knows no one would be willing to come and pick up all the tiny little shards of him that just keep splintering off and try and glue him back together again.

But apparently just because it won’t happen doesn’t mean he can’t want it more than he’s ever wanted anything. And he does. He wants it so badly it tears him apart.

That nagging voice comes back, suspended on a tidal wave of everything Sehun wants but can’t have, every little murmur of insecurity and inadequacy, every memory of nights spent staring at himself in the mirror, wondering why he’s never enough, not even for himself, and Sehun can feel the cracks widening.

It’s an unpleasant feeling, being torn apart from the inside out, but he’s never been able to patch himself up. It’s frustrating, having to rely on other people when the problem is so self-centred and stupid, and Sehun hates being a burden more than he’s ever hated anything. But he can’t stop it, can’t pull himself together anymore. And he can’t help but look forward to the day that he breaks, because maybe when he does he’ll stop drowning.

 

<><><> 

 

Jongin picks up on it first.

It’s not surprising, considering his history with overworking himself to the point of collapse and chronic injury, but Sehun is still surprised when one day after practice Jongin latches onto his arm and doesn’t let go.

Not in the hallway, not in the van, and certainly not in the dorm. The only time Sehun manages to detach his new bodyguard is when he needs the bathroom, and even then when he comes out Jongin is waiting across the hall.

It continues all afternoon, Jongin sticking to Sehun’s side tighter than he normally sticks to Kyungsoo. He’s next to him at dinner, playing the hyung card (a rarity) and feeding Sehun little bites in between his own. He should probably feel weirder about it than he does, but attention is rare and the stupid, touch starved corner of Sehun soaks it up like a sponge.

Jongin huddles up to him on the couch when they settle in for movie night (which Sehun has missed for the past month), flopping into Sehun’s lap halfway through and beaming at him when Sehun’s fingers unconsciously start weaving through soft brown hair.

In the back of his mind, Sehun already has plans to leave once the movie is over, to escape to the practice room and dance until the tightness in his chest goes away and his childish need for physical contact is battered into submission.

But Jongin, in a rare display of brute strength, tosses Sehun over his shoulder and carries him to bed. Sehun is caught between protest and acceptance, because while he knows his brain will stop him sleeping, Jongin used to be one of Sehun’s go-to members for cuddles.

He doesn’t do that anymore, after several of them complained (in extended detail) about Sehun’s constant want for attention, but maybe if Jongin is the one initiating it Sehun doesn’t have to feel so guilty.

So he lets himself be carried into Jongin’s room, bundled up under covers and cuddled half to death (Jongin turns into a koala with a death grip when he’s sleeping). Sehun doesn’t sleep, can’t without the bone-weary fatigue which accompanies every late night he spends in the practice room, but he feels a little lighter in the morning.

It continues for three days before Sehun reaches his limit. He hasn’t slept, needing more than just the tiredness that comes with holding himself together every day, and it shows. There’s bruises under his eyes, and every time he stands up he gets a little dizzier. His appetite is non-existent, eyelids lead weights and Sehun wants to cry because _no one notices_.

Not even Jongin, who’s been the equivalent of human superglue. So Sehun takes executive action just before the end of practice to ensure he won’t be dragged back to the dorm. He hides in the bathroom.

Unsurprisingly, it works. No one can be bothered to check where anyone is after a six-hour rehearsal, not even Junmyeon.

So Sehun stays in the bathroom until they leave, then locks himself in the practice room. It hurts more than usual, forcing past limits that probably shouldn’t be crossed, but Sehun needs it, needs to smother the emptiness in his eyes, make the voice in the back of his head shut up, if only for a little while.

He pushes harder than he should, and ends up on the floor with his knees tucked to his chest, heart pounding hard and fast enough to break his ribcage. But there’s a sweet, blissful oblivion that accompanies the pain, and Sehun pushes away everything else.

 

<><><> 

 

They find him the next morning, still curled up on the floor, shivering in a thin tank top and shorts. It gets bitterly cold overnight, something Sehun usually forgets, since when he’s there he’s doing nothing but practicing and overheating in the process.

Sehun has to explain it away, reasoning that he went to the bathroom but when he came out no one was here and his phone ran out of charge. They believe him, having no reason not to, but Junmyeon still sends Sehun home with strict orders to wear something warm and go to bed immediately.

He agrees, mentally berating himself for not waking up earlier and going back to the dorm. He’ll come back later, to talk to the dance instructor. Junmyeon can’t say no to that, considering their comeback is soon, and Sehun will stay as long as he can afterwards.

He ducks his head in apology to everyone as he leaves, but when he raises his eyes Chanyeol is staring at him. Sehun can’t help but feel a little dread at the keen intelligence directed straight at him. Chanyeol knows something, or at least thinks he does. Sehun just prays he keeps it quiet.

 

<><><>  

 

Baekhyun is the next one to act.

Sehun has always been close with Baekhyun, even if lately he’s been pulling away from interaction almost completely, so Sehun accepts the inevitable.

When Baekhyun gets clingy, he gets _clingy_.

They both do, actually, but Sehun has been trampling that instinct so hard it’s a surprise there’s anything left of it. With Baekhyun though, he can feel himself slipping back into danger zone.

Baekhyun manages to be everywhere, even more than Jongin, and Baekhyun is small enough to nudge his way under Sehun’s arm, or curl up on his lap, or nuzzle into Sehun’s neck and collarbones. He’s also recently dyed his hair to a pretty honey blonde that smells like caramel maple and feels like fine silk. 

The problem with cutting himself off is that when Sehun gets the attention he needs, it’s overwhelming. There’s an extraordinary amount of sensation that comes with hugging someone, and Sehun can probably list more aspects of it than ever before.

The stand out, though, is the _warmth_.

It’s a soft, fuzzy feeling that starts where the tightness is in his chest and spreads until Sehun’s whole body tingles. He can’t help himself, wrapping around Baekhyun and squeezing until there’s a muffled laugh of protest against his collarbones.

But it also makes Sehun sad, because he knows it wont last. It never lasts. He can’t muster up the courage to ask for what he needs anymore, because he’s painfully conscious of the fact that the other members have problems too.

Bigger that Sehun’s, harder to solve, infinitely more important, and the last thing they need is Sehun coming to them after an exhausting schedule asking for help with his own problems. They’re _his_ problems, after all, and it’s just not fair for Sehun to burden anyone else.

It takes longer than it did with Jongin for Sehun to pull away from Baekhyun, mainly because Baekhyun knows how to time cuddles so they don’t interfere with anything else. He manages, though, and soon enough his daily routine is back to the typical practice and people-avoidance schedule he’s been keeping to for a little under three months now.

It hurts. Far more than before, now that Sehun has glimpsed what he needs, but he forces the craving down, smothers it in late nights and loud music and isolation. He’s exhausted and everything hurts, but at least his mind shuts up when he gets so tired there’s nothing to do but collapse.

 

<><><> 

 

It’s two in the morning when Sehun comes back to the dorm.

That’s pretty early by his standards, usually slipping back in around three or four, depending on how long it takes for his eyes to start closing by themselves. Tonight, though, Sehun can tell staying longer won’t do anything except reinforce little mistakes that tend to creep in around this time.

Normally when that happens he switches to freestyle, where he’s able to make as many blunders and fall as many times as he likes without potentially ruining all the work he’s done during practice with the rest of the group.

But tonight he can’t do that, can’t summon the effort to switch tracks, or even think of routines he’s choreographed in the past. He just wants to sleep.

Eyes burning, Sehun closes the door behind him. He’s simultaneously numb and aching, and the hand holding his bag has started to shake. His legs feel like jelly, and Sehun pre-emptively moves to lean against a wall before he falls over and wakes everyone up. 

The lead weight on his eyelids drops fast, and Sehun takes a moment to breathe, pressing his cheek into the smooth, cool surface of the wall. He’s so lost in his head, in the rare silence he never gets to properly absorb, that he doesn’t register footsteps until there’s the soft sound of someone clearing their throat right in front of him. 

It takes too long for Sehun to open his eyes, but when he does he finds himself drowning in a pair of dark eyes currently latched onto his. Chanyeol.

Sehun takes a shaky breath, far too tired and far too weak to stifle the burning need to reach out and wrap his arms around Chanyeol, to bury his face in his neck and let himself break, but in the end that’s okay because Chanyeol does it for him, gathering Sehun into the tightest, warmest hug he’s had probably ever.

Chanyeol gives the best hugs, and Sehun wants to stay in them forever.

But it’s two in the morning, and now on top of everything else Sehun has made Chanyeol worry enough to stay up and waste the precious hours of sleep he could be getting, hours that are already far too short considering the hectic schedules they all have, and Sehun feels so, so guilty.

Detaching himself from Chanyeol hurts worse than any pulled muscle, as does the tiny smile he offers him while telling him _go to bed, hyung, it’s late_.

Sehun winds up in his own bed, staring at the ceiling, Junmyeon’s tiny snores the only distraction from the steadily rising noise level in his brain. It’s cold, the wrong type of quiet, and in the restless calm Sehun lets himself shatter a little more, muffling the tears in a pillow. He’s weak. He’s so, so weak, and he _hates_ it.

 

<><><> 

 

It becomes very hard to hide from Chanyeol.

There’s a little spark of realisation in his eyes the next time Sehun sees him. They’re sitting at the table, eating breakfast, but Sehun feels nauseous at the thought of eating so he’s just pushing the same bit of food around his plate in miniscule patterns.

He maps out their new choreography in his head, and distracts himself with the thought of practice for as long as he can, which isn’t very long.

Sehun gets restless quickly, knees bouncing up and down. Sleep drags at his eyes, but he’s currently in the frighteningly hyperactive stage of insomnia. It’s not very fun, but it’s nothing unusual.

There’s an irritated yell from Baekhyun across the table when Jongin reaches over and steals the food he was reaching for. Sehun can’t help but flinch, the loud noise not helping his headache. He lowers his head, focussing on the pale blue of his water glass, but gets distracted by the burning sensation of someone watching him.

It’s Chanyeol, and from the knowing look in his eyes Sehun can assume he saw everything. He tries a smile, but from the worry that furrows Chanyeol’s eyebrows Sehun knows it must look like more of a grimace.

Chanyeol sits next to Sehun in the van, reaching up to press Sehun’s head down into his shoulder. There’s no use trying to close his eyes and calm down – he’s going to be wired all day until he can practice himself to near unconsciousness – but Chanyeol is warm and safe and smells like something comforting and sweet, so Sehun just huddles closer and melts into Chanyeol’s side.

There’s a recurring twinge in Sehun’s ankle, exacerbated by the extended practice he does every night. It kicks in during the second set of choreography, and despite Sehun trying to be subtle about how much pain he’s in at the next break Chanyeol slumps down next to him and hands him an unopened bottle of water and two ibuprofen tablets.

Tiny things like that.

Chanyeol keeps it up, every day. He’s there at breakfast, making sure Sehun eats so he doesn’t faint in practice. In the van, offering a shoulder, or a knee if they’re lucky enough to get the backseat. In practice, with water and painkillers and that unfaltering sunshine smile. And sometimes at three in the morning, when Sehun comes back sore and exhausted, offering warmth and support in the quiet moments when Sehun is most vulnerable.

And Sehun goes with it, because he’s weak, and Chanyeol is the one initiating it, and the broken part of his mind that’s very good at ignoring the guilt says its okay to need things from other people sometimes.

 

<><><> 

 

It’s inevitable that Sehun breaks.

He’s been expecting it for a while, actually. He’s constantly tired, despite the sleep he gets after practicing as long as he does. His appetite is non-existent, and when he looks in the mirror he sees an empty skeleton and not much else. The amount of exercise he does means he should theoretically be as built as Minseok or Jongin, but Sehun has never been able to put on much muscle mass, and the little that he eats isn’t enough to sustain it.

Sehun knows Chanyeol is worried, knows a few of the members have started to catch on that there’s something wrong with their youngest member, but he’s still very good at hiding it. Probably too good.

It’s very obvious when Sehun is alone. Their comeback has been and gone, and the rest of the members are letting a little slack off, spending more time with each other simply for the pleasure of company, not to work on aspects of their performance.

Sehun watches from afar, and that stupid voice which just won’t shut up nags him again about how useless he is, how very unnecessary he is to the group. Sehun tells it to fuck off, but it doesn’t listen.

The final slope comes one day in practice. It’s just him and Jongin, going over their duo for the MAMA awards. They’re completely in sync, and Sehun smiles at their reflection in the mirror. He gets a bright grin back, right before his vision goes blurry.

It’s not unusual for Sehun to get a little fuzzy. It’s usually after an especially brutal choreography set, most common in the early hours of the morning. It’s a sign that Sehun needs to back off and sit down before he passes out or throws up.

So Sehun calls for a break, tossing Jongin a water bottle while opening one for himself. He leans against a wall rather than sitting down though, because he’s pretty sure once he’s on the floor he’s not going to be able to get back up, and they still need to fine tune a few sections.

After ten minutes, the haze clears and Sehun straightens up. The rest of their rehearsal goes smoothly, other than a faint sense of dread that settles in the pit of Sehun’s stomach.

He’s fine when they dance, when there’s choreography and music and endless timing cues to drown in, but when Jongin leaves Sehun knows something is very, very wrong. It feels like he’s being split in two down the centre of his chest, and his head is so light Sehun feels sick.

He doesn’t need to move anymore, doesn’t need to hold himself together, so Sehun lets his legs fail and sinks into a ball on the floor. Its too cold and too hot, and he’s shaking so hard his teeth are clacking against each other, and Sehun is _scared_.

His first instinct is to call Chanyeol, to break where it’s safe and warm and Sehun knows he’ll be okay, but then he remembers that Chanyeol has an interview this afternoon, and Sehun can’t do that to him, can’t distract him from anything as important as that, not for something so stupid as this.

So he surrenders to the tidal wave, and drowns as he shatters. 

 

<><><> 

 

The haze is deep. It smothers everything, dulls the pain and numbs him.

Sehun decides he likes oblivion.

It hurts so much less.

 

<><><> 

 

 _Sehun_.

There’s a frantic voice yelling his name and the sound of a slamming door before Sehun realises there’s someone here for him.

He can’t move, trapped in a tight ball on his side, still shaking. Then there’s a hand on his shoulder, another one under his waist, and he’s being lifted up into the lap of someone solid and warm and safe. Chanyeol.

Sehun still can’t move, though, and he’s terrified. Chanyeol is too, if the arms tight around his waist and shoulders and face buried in his hair are any indication. Sehun’s chest hitches, and his eyes start stinging. Hot-cold tears track down his cheeks, soak into Chanyeol’s shirt, and Sehun sobs when he feels Chanyeol’s pulse jump in response.

He’s pulled closer, murmurs of _please please please_ and _don’t do this to me_ pressed into his hair like prayers and Sehun feels the last of him splinter into nothing.

He’s raw and exhausted and broken and it hurts more than anything Sehun has ever experienced and he wants it to stop, wants to be held like this and comforted until everything fades into background noise and all that is left is him and Chanyeol.

A different type of haze takes him this time, one that’s dark and soft and beckons him gently, and as he slips under Sehun can almost imagine Chanyeol sinking with him.

 

<><><> 

 

Sehun opens his eyes to a blissfully empty mind and a damp, pastel blue t-shirt pressed against his cheek.

They’re on the couch, the only light in the room coming from a lamp to Sehun’s left. There’s still pain in his chest, faint spikes that twinge uncomfortably when Sehun shuffles a little, but Sehun ignores it.

Chanyeol is breathing deep and slow into Sehun’s shoulder, arms wrapped firmly around Sehun’s waist and body curled protectively around him. Sehun burrows deeper, turning his head so that his nose presses against Chanyeol’s pulse.

It’s so warm, and Sehun realises he’s wearing one of Chanyeol’s sweaters – an old black one with sleeves long enough to give Sehun sweater paws. It smells like Chanyeol and something sweet, and it’s soft on Sehun’s skin.

There’s a gentle exhale against his neck, and then Sehun is being lifted slightly, repositioned so they’re chest to chest with no space between.

Sehun lets his eyes close, lets himself drift with the steady rhythm of Chanyeol’s heartbeat, lets his breathing even out. His chest still hitches when he breathes too deep, and his eyes are still sore, but it’s okay. Sehun is safe.

There’s a tickle of eyelashes against his skin, then a deep, husky mumble of _don’t do that to me ever again_ , and Sehun falls apart.

_I won’t, I promise._

Chanyeol huffs into his neck, and Sehun doesn’t need to look to know there’s a disgruntled, affectionate pout on his face.

 _You better not_.

He’s tugged impossibly close, incredibly tight, and Sehun melts into Chanyeol with a sigh. It’s dark outside, a soft cloak of quiet over the dorm.

 

In the silence and comforting warmth, Sehun sleeps.


End file.
